stay still
by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: how to deal with your grumpy teammate. (tanatsuki, implied tananoya)


**A.N.** **: Rare pair prompt on tumblr.**

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An hour ago the very thought of having the other boy's hands anywhere near him might have been appalling at best, but the paths they trace over his body have washed all else away. He is left cool and throbbing for more, sinking his fingers into the back of neck and tugging toward him until their mouths are connected. And here, their tongues clash in the middle and he cannot find the proper words to describe what it does to him; heart pounding, stomach twisting, heat spilling down to the base of his spine and rocketing out toward the tips of his fingers and toes as he is met head on by other boy. He's taller but he's cornered, aching at the shoulders as he's pulled down to fill the height difference between them. There is no relief until the other decides it, and as soon as he does, Tsukishima sucks air greedily into his lungs and straightens to watch his upperclassmen wipe the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He doesn't necessarily know where they are. Some room that had at one time doubled for club activities now used exclusively for supplies. Nobody comes here, or so Tanaka tells him, as long as he promises to be quiet, as long as he doesn't tell anyone.

And he won't. He wouldn't dream of it.

Tanaka is surprisingly silent, purposeful as he pulls Tsukishima's belt buckle loose, unzips his pants all slow, all careful. There is nothing friendly about any of this. They aren't friends, and this will only further cement that fact.

A knuckle slides firm over his hardening length, and Tanaka only meets his gaze to say, "Stay still."

And then he sinks to his knees before him and tugs him free from his boxers. There are better uses for his mouth, Tsukishima learns, and tries very hard not to moan as he's engulfed in it. It's hot and wet and closes in around him snug. He clenches his fists and does as he's told, glancing down to watch for a second. Tanaka's cheeks hollow as he sucks, brow furrowing tight and head bobbing easily. He is efficient, so very confident in his own skills he hardly pauses to second think himself. The skin of Tsukishima's length is getting darker, he's never been this hard in his life and he has to wonder how many times the other boy has done this.

He doesn't wanna ask. He's seen how close his other, equally boisterous upperclassmen is to Tanaka and the mere notion of being in the same position causes a strange shiver down his back.

He almost hits the back of Tanaka's throat, but he does not gag. He sucks and sucks and Tsukishima feels his own eyes roll back a little, hissing and biting into his knuckles to muffle his noises. He's pulsing and it takes every ounce of his strength not to rock his hips forward, or place his hand upon the back of Tanaka's head to push him further down him.

As if reading his mind, the older boy retracts until only the tip is cradled delicately on the end of Tanaka's tongue. The air hits the wet skin cold and Tsukishima wants nothing more than to be buried back inside again. There are few things that can win over Tanaka's favor, and he scrambles for a second for what to say that do not start with _please_ —

"T—Tanaka-senpai," he stutters, voice rising high and pleading.

Tanaka hums, dragging his tongue down the shaft toward the base to suck on the skin there. He turns to lap at the skin under the head, and then pushes himself back just enough to stand up. Again, he wipes the spit from his mouth with his wrist.

And smiles wickedly at the taller boy.

"It'd do you well to be nicer," Tanaka comments, reaching a hand down to stroke at Tsukishima almost absentmindedly.

He's on the verge of falling apart, trembling with the need to release, and if only the other boy would put more effort into it, or at the very least let _him_ do it—

But just when he feels like he's about to reach that point, the other boy just—let's go.

Tucks him back into his boxers and zips him back up again.

Tsukishima almost feels like this is some sort of a cruel, sick joke. He watches his teammate turn on his heel and stride to the door casually, pocketing his hands and whistling jovially.

He doesn't find his voice until after the door is slid back shut, and all he can manage is, "Fuck."

.x.

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 **A.N.** **: Thanks for reading lol**


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